


Expectations

by symphorine



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Oikawa Tooru, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, but it ends up okay, discussions of consent and forcing yourself to have sex, more detailed warning in the author's note, oh also fuck it I'm tagging it, okay this is. uh., well aborted first time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 21:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7547350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphorine/pseuds/symphorine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd figured when the time would come, he would be okay. It would click, just like that, because he was a romantic, sue him, and he was sure if he loved them – if he loved them enough…</p><p>It can't be that hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning before you read:** Oikawa basically tries to force himself to have sex with Iwaizumi, because he thinks that's what he should do, and most of the fic is him trying to keep going while freaking out. Iwaizumi stops it before they go very far (hence the T rating) and they talk it out.
> 
> I wrote this in a day instead of my literally 14 other WIPs, I don't know what happened.

Oikawa feels Iwaizumi's hand on his waist, sneaking under his shirt, but doesn't pay more attention that usual. With how tactile they both are, he'd gotten used to the little touches early in their friendship, and come to appreciate the new ways they would brush against each others after they confessed. Ironically, it had taken a lot longer for him than for Iwaizumi.

Well, it was ironic if you weren't him. People tend to think he was the most hands-on of the two, and before their relationship, it had been true. Iwaizumi reserved his less gruff self for more intimate moments than days at school, but Oikawa had never really had that restraint. And, though Iwaizumi had definitely been the primary recipient of all this physical contact, Oikawa had gleefully latched onto other people as well on multiple occasions.

But what had come after they'd gotten together was different. It reminded Oikawa of the way some of the members of his fan club had flirted with him in high school, getting closer and brushing his hand in a gesture heavy with expectations. He'd always let them down – politely, of course, but he'd declined the unspoken propositions and run for his friends as fast as he could.

It's not exactly like that. It's still Iwaizumi he's talking about, and he's infinitely more fond of him than of any of the people who had followed him around in adoration. Everything Iwaizumi does for him – to him – carries his affection, his love for him, and thus is much more enjoyable. It isn't the same.

It isn't the same, but it's close enough that it had taken Oikawa a while to accept them, and longer to return them naturally, to stop freaking out every time Iwaizumi's hands would linger on his skin, to crush the fear that rose along the excitement when they kissed. Close enough that he'd refused, for the longest time, to even think about what those touches implied.

He'd always known, somewhere in his mind, that entering a relationship would mean being subjected to some expectations. Sex had been the one he'd tried to think about the less. He'd never really liked the idea, never felt ready, but he'd figured when the time would come, he would be okay. It would click, just like that, because he was a _romantic_ , sue him, and he was sure if he loved them – if he loved them enough…

Iwaizumi's hand trails higher, almost tickling but not quite, and Oikawa exhales. He feels Iwaizumi kiss his neck, feels his lips shape into a smile as he reads over his shoulder, and Oikawa shuts his textbook and pushes his homework aside, heart beating too fast. The _time_ doesn't seem to want to come, so what? He'll make it come. It can't be that hard.

“Sure you're done?” Iwaizumi asks, and Oikawa can hear his smirk.

“You're much more interesting,” he smiles, turning around and taking his glasses off.

“Glad to know,” Iwaizumi replies dryly, his hand now cupping Oikawa's jaw. “And here I was scared you'd prefer spending time with your numbers.”

“They _are_ more relaxing than you,” Oikawa tease s, trying to ignore every alarm screaming in his head.

“I can help you relax, birthday boy,” Iwaizumi whispers, ducking to kiss him.

And this is it. Now he can't go back. He'd promised himself. It's today, now or never.

Oikawa throws his arms behind Iwaizumi's neck and deepens the kiss, familiar enough with that part that it feels pleasant. Iwaizumi's skin is hot and maybe a bit sticky under his fingers, but then again, so is his, in the middle of summer.

They'd agreed to celebrate during the week-end, to go up and visit their families, that today would be as usual. But it's still his birthday, it's still an occasion, and that's good. That gives meaning to it. Oikawa lets Iwaizumi break the kiss, breathing heavily, but tightens his grip on him.

Iwaizumi is frowning, and the joke is there, ready on the tip of his tongue, but it's useless. He couldn't hide how nervous he is, can't shield himself by pretending this is coming easily. Iwaizumi has picked up on it, of course – he pretty much always does. His fingers brush against Oikawa's jaw, absently, as his eyes are looking for something.

“Maybe we could move somewhere where we can both sit,” Oikawa suggests, satisfied to hear that his voice is still firm, if a bit shaky.

Iwaizumi  hums in answer, dropping his hand to link their fingers instead as Oikawa  gets up, and le a d s them in their bedroom. The sun  is setting, but still lighting it up, all in orange tones that  make Oikawa shiver.  Iwaizumi  goes to open the window to  let in the freshening air, and the light breeze  is a welcome distraction for a second, but then he 's on their bed, arms open.

Oikawa crawls between them, settling in Iwaizumi's lap, and for a second they just exist there, in this room, with each other, cut off from time and expectations and responsibilities. Then Iwaizumi reaches for his face again, and Oikawa both loves and hates how concerned he looks.

“You know what you're doing?” and Oikawa also hates that this was a question, and loves that he's taken the time to ask it.

He covers Iwaizumi's hand with his own and leans down until they are breathing the same air.

“Yes,” he says, and technically, this is true – he knows, he _knows_ , he is _prepared_.

He kisses Iwaizumi again, and again, and again, and he feels both heavier and lighter each time, but he'd decided it would be now, today, because it is _time_. Iwaizumi  doesn't seem to entirely buy his answer, but soon he is all too occupied with their mouths to protest. Oikawa lets his hands wander, linger for a moment on Iwaizumi's arms, go down his sides and mirror Iwaizumi's gesture earlier. The touch electrifies him, and he is sure he would have found it nice if he could have just stopped feeling sick. He keeps going, tugging at the shirt until Iwaizumi leans away to take it off himself with a huff.

“You could have just asked,” he points out, letting it fall on the floor.

“You understood just fine,” Oikawa shoots back, and hopes Iwaizumi hasn't noticed the tiny waver in his words.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes but pulls him back down, pecking him on the lips before he holds Oikawa's face almost against his. Their eyes flicker down, to their lips, and then to their chests – Iwaizumi's bare one, Oikawa's still covered one.

“Mind if I return the favor?” Iwaizumi grins, angling his face so he can leave a trail of kisses down Oikawa's jaw, so careful in his touch, so _slow_.

Oikawa doesn't trust his voice anymore and only nods, once. He feels like his heart is going up his throat, but it's fine, it should be fine, this is _Hajime_ , after all. So he lets him take his time, hopes he will think Oikawa is excited and not terrified, hopes it will work out as he lifts his arms, hopes Hajime will keep going. His T-shirt is pulled away, and he's left half naked, sitting on his boyfriend, fighting the urge to cover himself.

“Tooru.”

He can go on, he can – Hajime certainly will want to, and he _does_ , too.

“ _Tooru_ ,” Iwaizumi repeats, reaching not for his chest but for his hands, clasping them together. “We can stop, if you want.”

“I don't-” Oikawa swallows, swallows again, forces himself to calm down. “I don't want to stop.”

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi says again, pressing their hands together harder. “We can stop.”

“I _don't_ -”

“You're shaking,” Iwaizumi says softly, and Oikawa realizes that's true, that the only reason his hands are still is that they are between Iwaizumi's.

“I'm okay,” he lies, “we can keep going.”

“Are you sure?” Iwaizumi asks again.

Oikawa tries to answer, he really does. He takes a deep breath, forms the words in his mind, knows what he is going to say. But when they are supposed to come out as his lips move, nothing happens. Iwaizumi is still watching him, serious and focused, and Oikawa clenches his hands around Iwaizumi's wrists and tries again. Nothing.

Iwaizumi lets himself fall back on their pillows and closes his eyes briefly, nodding to himself.

“Okay, we're stopping.”

“No!” Oikawa exclaims, words finally passing his lips, just a little too late, and he doesn't even care how desperate he sounds. “No, we can- we can-”

“Tooru, you're almost _crying_ ,” Iwaizumi interrupts him, his tone way too kind.

Oikawa  freezes , and Iwaizumi blur s , and –  _oh._ Not just almost, then, he reflect s bitterly. Iwaizumi hug s him, more tender than he' s  ever been, and Oikawa  finds himself burying his face between Iwaizumi's neck and shoulder.

He crie s . He crie s for what seem s like a long time, for both of them, and only stop s for a few seconds, just the time it  takes for Iwaizumi to grab one of the discarded shirts and hand it to him, and then he crie s into the shirt as Iwaizumi trie s to comfort him. He  feels the  fabric dampen between his fingers and clutche s at it harder, not knowing whether Iwaizumi  is a welcome presence or if he  wants to crawl away and never see him again.

“It's okay, Tooru, it's fine,” he keeps murmuring, stroking his hair and his back, and the words only make him want to cry harder.

“I'm sorry.”

His voice is cracking, the words almost unintelligible between a sob and the next.

“You don't have anything to be sorry for.”

Oikawa snorts, and the sound is ugly and wet, but at least the crying is easing up. He wipes his tears with the shirt and sits back, just far enough that he can look at Iwaizumi, and most importantly, avoid looking him in the eyes. Iwaizumi's arms don't leave him, settled on his knees now.

“I'm sorry,” Oikawa repeats, and really, that _is_ the most single overwhelming sentiment he's feeling – he's sorry. “I can't – I tried, I don't know why I can't, I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize,” Iwaizumi repeats. “I'm not mad, but I might get there if you think I would hold this against you,” he adds, obviously hoping to lighten the mood.

Oikawa snorts again, humorless.

“I'm sorry, I know you've been – I know you've been ready for some time,” he says, quietly, refusing to look away from his hands, twisting them together. “I don't know why, I don't know, I thought-”

He shudders as he has to repress another sob, unwilling to let it start again. Iwaizumi looks ready to say something else, so he hurries to speak up.

“I thought I could, you know – that it would come naturally,” he confesses, “but obviously it didn't, and I. It _never_ came naturally, so I don't know why I thought it would now. I don't know when I'll be ready, _if_ I'm ever going to be,  it doesn't feel like it's ever going to happen. I just,” he tries to press on, before his throat can close up, choking on his own voice, “I'm sorry.”

Iwaizumi has a look on his face that is an odd mix between his usual 'I am going to kick you' and 'you are such a fucking idiot' looks, sprinkled with a heavy dose of affection. The resulting expression isn't as threatening as it should be.

“Don't ever,” he starts, grabbing Oikawa's shoulders to bring him suddenly closer, “ _ever_ do that again.”

“Do what?” Oikawa asks, confused.

“Force yourself to have sex with me.”

Oikawa laughs, startled, because. Because.

“I wasn't _forcing_ -”

“Tooru, shut up and listen to me,” Iwaizumi orders, looking in his eyes. “I don't want you to feel like having sex with me is an obligation you have to fulfill. If – and I mean _if_ – we ever _do_ have sex, I want it to be because we both want it, there and then, without a doubt. Do you understand?”

Oikawa doesn't dare actually talk, and so he nods, his nose brushing against Iwaizumi's.

“Good. If there's a time when you feel ready, we'll try again.” He pauses, pulling Oikawa even closer. “If you never do, then you never do, and that's it. I won't love you any less for it, I promise. Sex might be an enjoyable bonus, but it's not in my priorities; you are.”

He's punctuated his words with hard squeezes around Oikawa's legs, and seems only now to realize what he was doing. He lets go and folds his hands between them, touching Oikawa's but not taking them. Oikawa's eyes haven't left his, like he's afraid to look away. Maybe he is, he thinks. Maybe he's afraid if he moves, then this reality will shatter into a million pieces, and him too.

“I promise, Tooru,” Iwaizumi repeats. “I don't care. I love you.”

Oikawa almost feels the tears coming up, but he sniffs hard and shales his head, trying to clear his mind.

“Well, that's good to know,” he tries, going for casual teasing and missing by miles and miles, his voice higher than usual.

“I'd be amazed if you'd found anything _bad_ to know in what I just said,” Iwaizumi sho ots back with a tentative smile.

“Hmmm. You know, I'm amazing, but I think even I couldn't do that,” Oikawa admits, finally – _finally_ – feeling himself relax.

Iwaizumi shakes his head but doesn't stop smiling, and pushes his side gently to make him lay down on the bed. They're face to face, and Iwaizumi's hand is on his bare skin, but now that it is devoid of any of the expectations that terrified him, Oikawa finds it was pleasant. He wriggles closer to Iwaizumi, enough that Iwaizumi is forced to bend his elbow a bit awkwardly, and reaches for him, his fingertips brushing Iwaizumi's chest lightly before he lets them fall between them.

“Thank you, Hajime,” he whispers.

Those words  ring truer than anything else he' s said  until now , and Iwaizumi must have felt it too, because he  doesn't say anything back, just  fills the gaps between Oikawa's fingers  with his .

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda wrote this in part because of the ridiculous sexualization of Oikawa I've seen, and because I'm still very amused at the fact that teenage boys turn into sex gods in a lot of fics. So I guess that's my answer to that?
> 
> I've also wanted to try my hand at them for a while and this is short enough that I couldn't mess it up _too_ much.


End file.
